Something About That Glory
by arabmorgan
Summary: The team's had about enough of Tony flirting with Loki all the time.


**Something About That Glory**

In hindsight, it was actually a miracle that they had all managed to put up with Tony's non-stop flirting for a whopping seven months before snapping.

Well, Clint was the one who had snapped, and _that_ had set everyone else off.

Of course, it wasn't actually the _flirting_ that was the problem. Tony was a consummate flirt, everyone knew and accepted that with different degrees of grace. The promising smirks, the off-hand complimentary remarks, the annoying charm – it all came naturally to him.

Rather, it was the fact that the object of his current amorous attentions was none other than a very unreliable Norse god who was currently residing in the Avengers Tower. And it wasn't the well-meaning blonde one either.

This meant that not only did the Avengers have to live in perpetual fear of Loki finally snapping under the weight of Tony's advances and returning to his previous occupation of evil overlord-wannabe, they also had very unfortunate front-row seats to the awful one-liners and increasingly ridiculous gifts that Tony somehow managed to cook up every week without fail.

He had started out reasonably small – small for Tony Stark, anyway – with a lovely display of 101 roses delivered to Loki's floor. Loki's response had been similarly subtle – the Asgardian had merely raised his brows, scrunched up his nose at the somewhat overwhelming fragrance of 101 roses crammed into an enclosed area, and vanished the lot with a wave of his hand.

From there, Tony had experimented with a number of different gifts, including a sleek green Audi (Clint had wept actual tears of joy when Loki had nonchalantly tossed the keys away at the breakfast table and the archer had managed to catch them with a circus-worthy heroic leap), a huge stuffed dragon (vanished with a sneered, "Have you fools never seen a dragon before?"), and finally, after a short but heated discussion with a rather amused Thor, a carton of assorted first edition classic novels ( _not_ vanished; received with a sniff that sounded vaguely approving).

But the _gifts_ weren't the problem either, not even when Steve had been forced to jump in to prevent Loki from vanishing the choir and accompanying orchestra Tony had called in to serenade said god. After all, as horrible as it sounded, most of them had, in one way or another, benefited from the various unwanted, unvanished gifts Loki frequently left behind.

No, the _real_ issue was the verbal flirtation, which was virtually unavoidable as long as Tony and Loki were in the same vicinity. Given that the Avengers had a penchant for group activities whenever at least half of them were in the tower, including daily group breakfasts, that happened very often indeed.

Truthfully, most of it was fairly tame, which might have been one reason they'd managed to put up with it for more than half a year.

"Whoa there, looks like that bot got you good. If you get all _this_ off…" Tony trailed off, reaching out as if to lay his hands on Loki's leather-clad stomach, but the god took a smooth step back. "I can help you bandage it. I'm a certified medical professional, I swear. By the Hippocratic Oath."

(Bruce let out a very loud snort at that.)

"Sure you're sleeping well in that bed, Reindeer Games? I mean, are those eye bags under those pretty eyes? You know, _my_ mattress is made of –"

("No one wants to know, Stark." Loki didn't even look up from his scrambled eggs.)

"Oh, _god_." Tony stumbled against the kitchen counter, looking halfway stunned. "Just look at that _ass_ in _jeans_."

(Steve wasn't sure if Natasha looked mildly amused or mildly…appreciative. He didn't want to know anyway.)

It had been funny at first, to see Tony so doggedly chasing after the former villain, while Loki looked either bored, disdainful or plain exasperated. When the billionaire's interest showed no signs of tapering off a few months later, it had started to get worrying in the relationships-tend-to-screw-up-team-dynamics sort of way, but somehow Loki had managed not to incinerate Tony yet, and Tony was keeping his mid-battle flirting to a bare minimum. Kind of.

After _that_ , it had started to get plain uncomfortable, considering the pursuit had been going on for what felt like ages, and had been stagnant for just as long. The team was torn between embarrassment for and annoyance at Tony for refusing to admit defeat, and sympathy for and fear of Loki for putting up with it.

(Not that this was something they had actually discussed per se. They weren't _that_ uncomfortable yet. Instead, they were making do with communication via brief eye contact, raised brows and slight frowns.)

And then "You know who the greatest popsicle-sucker in this room is, Lokes?" became the straw to break Clint-the-camel's back.

The team was spread out across Tony's living room, watching one of the many James Bond movies and sucking cheerfully on popsicles when Clint slammed his hand down on the couch.

"Tony, would you just give it a goddamn _rest_?"

Silence fell. Steve tried to shoot a surreptitious, apprehensive glance at Natasha without making it obvious.

Then Tony snorted. "Whoa there, Robin Hood. Are you jealous or something?" He turned to look at Clint with an expression of complete bemusement, like he actually believed the archer had been harbouring a secret crush on him.

Clint looked wholly unamused. "I mean just stop with this thing where you keep trying to get into Loki's pants, because it's not going to happen in a million years," he snapped, looking genuinely furious. "I know it, Loki knows it, hell, we _all_ know it. _You_ know it, so just accept it and stop making everything awkward as shit for everyone."

Onscreen, a car exploded.

Bruce shifted in his seat, looking like he wanted nothing more than to melt into the leather for the next eight hours. Loki was looking at Tony with his usual unreadable expression, which meant that his current mood could be anywhere between hysterical internal laughter and offended Asgardian fury.

For about half a second, something that looked a lot like hurt flashed across Tony's face, before he drew himself up from his slouch, looking angry enough to rival Clint, and that was the moment Steve knew he had to intervene before movie night was ruined even more than it already was.

"Okay, hold on just a minute." He stood abruptly before Tony could speak, hands raised in a manner meant to be both pacifying and restrictive. "Tony, what Clint means is that the way you've been…wooing Loki doesn't exactly seem like the right way to do things. It's been _months_ , Tony, and the way you've been forcing your attentions on him is like…it's basically like harassment." He said the last word flatly, sounding both mortified and resigned that it had come to this.

Tony's face was ashen, and his jaw worked soundlessly for a moment. "Wow." He stood and took a few steps away so he could face everyone in the room as a whole. "So this is what you guys have been thinking of me? This whole time you've just been living off some guy who's always on the verge of basically _sexually assaulting_ someone, is that it?"

"Well –" Clint began, still looking heated, and Steve took that as his cue to interrupt again.

"Tony, come on." He took a step forward, only to stop at the narrow-eyed glare Tony turned on him. "You know we don't mean it like that."

Loki straightened from where he was seated beside Thor, looking marginally annoyed, which didn't help to diffuse the charged atmosphere one bit. "Stark," he started.

At the same time, Natasha finally tried to get involved. "Guys –" she said sharply, both her mood and expression seeming to mirror Loki's, which was to say 'potentially murderous, but it's hard to tell'.

Thor was quiet for once, looking confusedly from one Avenger to another with furrowed brows and an unhappy tilt to his lips.

"No, wait." Tony pointed first to Natasha, then to Loki. " _You_ guys shut up. I'm going to say my piece, and then you can all get the hell out before I'm arrested for mass murder."

Tentatively, Bruce reached out for the remote and shut off the television.

"Look, I know you guys think I'm a joke," Tony said flatly, holding up a hand when Bruce and Steve tried to speak at the same time, " _outside_ of the Iron Man suit. Okay, yeah, I know you all love my suit. But when it's just plain ol' me, Tony Stark – well, you can't take him seriously, can you? Tony and his narcissism, Tony and his daddy issues, Tony and his whoring around. And now guess who Tony's next victim is?"

Even though it wasn't anything they had seen before, it was obvious to everyone that Tony was really gearing up for a full-out rant. The rest of the team seemed frozen in place, able to do nothing more than stare in wide-eyed shock at the inventor's cold, spiteful words.

"Now, I'm sorry that you all think I'm harassing Loki here, and I'm sorry if _you_ think I'm harassing you." He turned his gaze on Loki, eyes shining strangely bright. "I didn't mean to, but I have never, _ever_ heard Bambi here tell me 'no' or 'stop' or…or whatever, okay? All he does is call me a foolish mortal or an ant or a defective specimen of a human being, and I figured he's…he's like me, you know? He has a shit ton of trust issues and he's just testing me, trying to scare me away, trying to see how weak my little 'mortal feelings' are, so I thought as long as he wasn't telling me to go away, I should just keep trying. I thought eventually he'd realise – whatever, you know."

Tony cut himself off abruptly, looking suddenly smaller, as if his anger had given him height and presence he'd never had. To Steve, he looked worn out and very much his age for once.

The silence was deafeningly awful.

Clint, looking extremely guilty, was staring at Loki, who in turn was looking very fixedly at Tony, who appeared to be fascinated by something beyond the windows.

"Anthony, _I_ have never taken your actions towards my brother as harassment," Thor said loudly, and possibly a little proudly. "Loki has ever been capable of fending for himself, and since he has not yet maimed you, I took it that your advances were not entirely unwelcome. Although perhaps not quite as respectful as I would expect of one courting an Asgardian prince." His last sentence was half-mumbled almost to himself, as if he was considering revoking his brotherly permission for courtship.

"Indeed," Loki sniffed haughtily, looking quite unbothered by the tension-thick atmosphere. "Asgardian courtship often lasts for decades. I thought Stark's persistent approach quite appropriate, if a little…forward. Still, I suppose one must make concessions for the pathetic Midgardian lifespan. I am quite interested to find out what it is I am supposed to 'realise'."

Standing, the dark-haired god strode over to Tony and grasped the billionaire's upper arm. There was just enough time for everyone to see Tony look up at Loki with a shell shocked expression on his face before the duo disappeared in a puff of green smoke.

"JARVIS?" Natasha said quietly.

"Mr. Stark and Prince Loki are currently in Mr. Stark's bedroom. They appear to be conversing somewhat peaceably, Miss Romanoff." Somehow, the dryness of JARVIS' intonation seemed to cast the 'peaceable' aspect of the conversation in doubt, but no one appeared particularly worried.

"Well." Bruce smiled around at everybody in a manner that spoke of deliberate calm, before switching the television on once more.

Fifteen minutes passed, and then Steve said, "Clint, I think you owe Tony an apology tomorrow."

"Hey, who's the one who brought up the harassment?" Clint grumbled, albeit rather mildly.

"We'll have an official team meeting tomorrow. There are clearly a number of issues among us that still need to be addressed," Natasha announced coolly, and that was that.

* * *

The next morning, the whole team was already up and feasting on pancakes when Tony strutted into the kitchen with Loki, impeccably put together as always, three steps behind. As he reached for a clean plate, Tony smiled smugly around at the assembled Avengers, who were watching him with some trepidation.

"Guess who just found out why I'm the greatest popsicle-sucker in this building?"


End file.
